


i belong, i believe

by scrapbullet



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst and Feels, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Not Beta Read, Tumblr Prompt, mentioned Captain Flint/Thomas Hamilton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 09:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12724170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: For years, Silver has cultivated a façade whilst revealing nothing, truly, of himself. The pretence is fortified, though malleable, changing to the whims of a capricious audience. Not a single person has been able to slip through the false exterior to the man underneath, no matter how hard they try to play the game.No-one, that is, untilFlint.





	i belong, i believe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WeeBeastie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeBeastie/gifts).



> For my dear Mac, who prompted me for a silverflint inspired ficlet with the following lyrics;
> 
>  
> 
> _'were you safe and warm_  
>  _in your coat of arms_  
>  _with your fingers in a fist?’_
> 
>  
> 
> This is my first foray into writing the pairing, so to speak, so I'm a wee bit nervous! Thank you for being a good friend and listener, and I hope you like it ❤️(and as for the flinthamilton mention... I'm so sorry, I just couldn't help myself :p )

Silver is no stranger to carrying a weight on his shoulders. His spirit is strong, and the mask he wears bears no cracks. All it takes is a flash of white teeth and a mischievous smile and even those who are aware they’re being manipulated inevitably fall victim to his charms. Experience has taught him to keep his true self close to his chest; hidden away and out of sight, tucked close lest they know the soft, vulnerable parts of Silver to pierce and corrode. 

For years, Silver has cultivated a façade whilst revealing nothing, truly, of himself. The pretence is fortified, though malleable, changing to the whims of a capricious audience. Not a single person has been able to slip through the false exterior to the man underneath, no matter how hard they try to play the game. 

No-one, that is, until _Flint._

Somehow, Flint has managed to touch Silver in a way that so many others have not. Perhaps he simply stayed too long; should have left with the Urca gold when the time was right. Perhaps he should have kept his Captain at arms length; played the long game. Perhaps he should have never allowed another man so close, _too close_ ; sitting in the wretched dark and listening to a story that wasn’t merely a story, but a heart-breaking reality.

_Unclench your fists, your body, and let him in._

And so, he fell, and is falling still. 

“How long did you have with him, in the end?” He asks one night, when the moon is full and the Maroon Camp has since fallen silent. They lay together, Silver and Flint, like two halves of a whole; Silver’s back to Flint’s chest, pressed so tight together that the steady beat of Flint’s heart is a comfort in the night. “When did you-” a pause, tremulous but wanting, gathering courage, “when did you fall in love with him?”

For a moment, Flint says nothing; only breathes. The warm puff of air against Silver’s neck makes him shiver, unguarded. “If you don’t wish to answer-”

“No,” Flint sighs, and he noses the buoyant curls aside to nuzzle at Silver’s neck, lips pressed to where the pulse flutters like butterfly wings. “No, it’s alright.” _With you_ , is what Flint doesn’t say, doesn’t need to say. _With you, I can speak of it, and although it hurts, the pain is a good pain._ “Just-”

“Just?” Silver swallows thickly.

Flint’s arms tighten around him, then, solid and unwavering. “I know you,” Flint murmurs, and Silver’s heart drops, heavy as a rock. “ _I know you_ , John, and so I know that you’re searching for the ways in which you differ, and if that contrast means I love you less.”

 _Ah_. So Silver is laid bare to Flint’s eyes, it seems, and as the breath quickens in his breast he is urged onto his back with gentle hands, palms wide and callused. Flint presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Silver’s trembling mouth, and the soothing rumble that alights in Flint’s chest does more to prick Silver’s eyes with tears than to relieve the ache in him.

“You are as different as night and day, but one inevitably follows the other.” Flint murmurs, stroking his fingers idly through Silver’s curls. “Are as _significant_ as one another. That, you can count on.”

Silver shudders. Something, somewhere, chirrups in the dark. His stump throbs with every inward breath, singing a chorus of agony - of body and soul, heart and mind. 

Flint exhales, almost melancholy, but he doesn’t hesitate to take Silver’s face in his hands in entreaty. Forehead to forehead they rest, and breathe each others air. “A different love, but not lesser. _Never_ lesser.”

“I should be reassuring _you_ ,” Silver says, as his fingers clench at Flint’s shirt. “After all you’ve been through-”

“You’re making comparisons again,” Flint muses, and there’s something in his voice like bemusement. “Don’t. The validity of my pain does not diminish your own.” His fingers brush against the clothed stump, tender. 

Silver does not flinch. Refuses to, even. It’s an ugly thing, his ruination, and he grimaces, mouth twisting into an expression of distaste that Flint, humming softly, tries his best to soothe away with a kiss.

“You keep distracting me,” Silver says with affront, though he makes no move to stop Flint’s wandering hands, that slip beneath worn cloth to rub over the hard jut of his hipbones, not so much amorous as desiring to _feel_. “And you’ve yet to answer either question.”

Grinning foxily, Flint manoeuvres his hands into the small of Silver’s back, and rests his head in the hollow of Silver’s throat. “Indeed I haven’t, my sweet.” A low, slow exhalation escapes him; bliss in every nuance. “And the truth is; I don’t know when I lost my heart to him, but although our time together was short it changed me in ways I couldn’t have possibly imagined.”

Perturbed, Silver settles his arms around Flint in a loose embrace. Time has a way of repeating itself, it appears, placing Silver in the fine, polished boots of a naively optimistic Lieutenant McGraw. “Time has a way of… softening the edges. I’m so sorry, James.”

Flint, on the brink of exhausted slumber, mumbles and pats Silver’s hip. “ _Go to sleep, John._ ”

Sleep, when it comes, is restless.

If not for Flint, blanketing his body and keeping him grounded, Silver would not have slept at all.


End file.
